


bright ideas and martial arts

by shimadagans



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Trans Character, certain members of the cast served in the military, genji works at a toy store that ana owns, overwatch doesn't actually exist, the character death is arguably major? but it doesnt happen on screen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2018-11-07 04:04:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11050953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimadagans/pseuds/shimadagans
Summary: The super self-indulgent AU nobody asked for!aka Genji is gay and needs a spiritual overhaulGenji Shimada is just a summer away from his last year of college and he has no idea what to do with himself. He supposes it'll be a grueling, fruitless summer with his job at the toy store...until he meets the people who run the new yoga studio in town."Grumbling, Genji approaches the door with the full intent of cheerily informing whoever’s on the other end that they’re not open yet. He unlocks and opens the door, mouth open to say just that, when he looks up and locks eyes with possibly the most beautiful person he’s ever seen."trans/mlm author. character/relationship tags will be added as we go.





	1. A literal light bulb moment

The air is still cool outside when Genji begrudgingly gets out the door in the morning, but he still rolls down the windows in his car so the wind can wake him up a little more on his way to work. He flips through several radio stations playing unsatisfactory songs and eventually settles on silence, telling himself that he won’t let something so simple start his day off on the wrong track. The edge of the city is still quiet and sleepy for the most part, though he does drive past a few groups of kids on their way to school. He doesn’t envy them in the slightest, recalling days when he was on the same path. He has half a mind to stop at a 7-11 on the way to grab a coffee, or _something_ that’ll get him less groggy, but a glance at his phone down a straight stretch of road shows him that he’s already pushing the envelope on time.

And Ana Amari is not one to be kept waiting.

 

The shop’s display lights aren’t on yet when he pulls up and cuts the engine, but if he squints. Genji can see lights on in the back of the store. He barely knocks on the door before a muffled voice calls “Coming!” and Ana comes into view. She peers at him for a second through the door, sharp eyes doing a sweep before she unlocks the door and lets him inside.

“Genji, it’s wonderful to see you,” she says, talking over her shoulder as she heads back into the depths of the store, “Your hair is green, now, that’s a surprise.”

He combs his hair through his hair, a nervous gesture, and follows her, “It’s great to see you’re still alive and well, ma’am,” he pauses and chooses his words, “I…lost a bet.”

“There’s no need to lie to me,” she waves her hand at him over the papers she’s apparently been working on, “I hear outrageous hair colors are a trend, nowadays. Not a problem to me.” She eyes him again, hands stacking papers with practiced efficiency and tapping them on the edge of the back counter, “You’re still doing well in school, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, sheepish now, “I’m set to graduate next May.”

“Good, good. Now, I trust you haven’t forgotten how to open the store? Fareeha won’t be in until after school, and I have some calls to make, I assume you’ll be alright by yourself for a while?” She asks, tone a little softer now.

“Yes, I got it, no worries,” he answers, almost too quickly, and she catches his eyes again before reaching out to squeeze his arm with one hand, then nodding and turning to go into her office, “Alright, Genji. Yell if you need something.”

 

The morning passes smoothly, and goes right into the afternoon with only a few customers to talk to. Genji finds himself feeling restless instead of tired, sipping on water and going over a stock list per Ana’s request when the door to the store flies open. Genji’s about to greet whoever it is when the person walks in and calls out “Mom, I’m here,” before realizing that Genji is at the register, and he’s definitely not somebody’s mom.

“Genji?” she asks, squinting like she can’t quite tell, “Wait. More like Greenji, with hair like that.”

“Nice to see you too, Fareeha,” he snorts, coming around the counter to size her up, glad for the distraction, “Wow, at this rate, you’re going to end up taller than me. How was school?”

She drops her voice and glances around conspiratorially, “Boring. Soooo boring. But don’t let my mom know I said that.”

“That you said what?” Ana asks, sliding out from behind one of the shelves, eyes narrowed over the top of her glasses, the working one flicking over the pair of them.

“Nothing, mom, school was fine, yes, I turned in that report for biology, and no, they haven’t sent home permission slips for the field trip,” Fareeha rattles off, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder, “Did we get those new drones in yet? The cool remote control ones? I wanted to try one out…” at a look from her mother, she quickly adds, “For the store, of course.”

There’s a pause before Ana replies, still looking her daughter over, “No, not yet, but they are due in by Wednesday. Did you ask your history teacher for a letter of recommendation yet? Those applications will open up soon.”

He’s suddenly struck with feeling a bit out of place, a little distant again, that feeling from earlier in the day creeping up on him again before Ana calls him back to reality, “Genji? Ah, good, you’re back. You’re free to go for the day, though I’ll need you back in tomorrow to help open. You did see the schedule I sent you, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am. Anything you need me to do before I go?” he asks, already ready to head out after being in the store for 8 hours with almost nobody to talk to.

“Not anything for me, but I’d like you to get familiar with the new stores in the complex.” She states as Fareeha scoots past her with a wave to Genji, “The guitar store reopened, I hear they’ve hired a new fellow to take on kids for lessons, and the couple who ran the carpet showroom have retired, it seems. A new yoga place has opened up there, so it seems.” She barks out a laugh at Genji’s expression, “Oh, come now. Aren’t you supposed to be all for trying new things, with hair like that?”

“It’s _yoga_. I bet the people who set up shop there are a bunch of yuppies who think doing some stretches will cure any illness. But,” he relents at Ana putting one hand on her hip and raising an eyebrow, “I guess I can go make nice.”

“The guitar store closes early today, except for lessons, so save that for another day, but do try to stop by the studio and at least scope the place out, yes?” she replies, relaxing once more, “It may not be what you expect.”

 

The yoga studio does just that from the moment Genji approaches the door. The plain lettering on the door states “Tekhartha Yoga” and from the outside, the furnishings look minimal, not at all what Genji would expect from a place that he’s used to associating with rich white moms and uppity art students. When he opens the door and steps inside, he’s greeted by soft chimes and dim lighting, tranquil. There’s no real reception desk or anyway to tell where he should go to “make nice”, but there is a person sitting with incredible posture on a cushion in the first room, head shaved and arms covered with intricate tattoos. This person, however, makes no effort to communicate, face relaxed and legs crossed, the very picture of what Genji assumes is meditation. Genji clears his throat, and when he still gets no response, gives a tentative “Hello?”

The person on the cushion blinks up at him for a moment, then furrows his eyebrows, the circular marks on his forehead tightening just slightly before he calmly get to his feet, “Ah, my apologies. I was not expecting any company until later in the day, so I chose this hour to meditate. I can get quite caught up in the process once it starts, so I must not have heard you come in.” Genji is struck by how much taller the man is when he stands, a good head taller than he is, his clasped hands coming almost up to Genji’s chin, “I would assume that you are here for a particular reason, but often, our assumptions are what make us falter, so instead I will ask why you have come to our studio today.”

“I uh,” he suddenly feels rather inadequate, a little awkward, “I just work at the toy store a few stores down over the summer and I heard a new place opened up here. I just came over to uh. Check things out?”

“Ah, wonderful,” the person replies, “We’re glad to have caught your curiosity. I assume you read the door sign?” At Genji’s nod, he continues, gesturing to the space, hands spread “My brother and I opened up our studio here just a few months ago. It’s long been our dream to have a space to teach in, to guide people to healthier living and spirituality. Are you, too, a follower of the practice?”

“I...never had a chance to get into it, no,” Genji admits, feeling a little guilty when the others expression falters for just a moment, and he blurts out, “Are you two monks?”

“Monks? I…no,” the other looks thoughtful for a moment, eyes sweeping over Genji, “We simply live life modestly. Or, at least, as modestly as we can. Life is full of ways of making us question our own paths, yes? Personally, I am always glad for a chance to sharpen my focus and spread the knowledge of healthy living, but Zenyatta often says I am too pragmatic—“

“That’s your brother, right?” Genji cuts him off, a little winded by how long the other talked without taking a breath, “Zenyatta?”

The other pauses for a moment, thoughtful again before blinking and shaking his head just slightly, “Ah, goodness, I must apologize once again. I must have forgotten to introduce myself. I am Mondatta, and yes, Zenyatta is my little brother. I would introduce him in person, but I believe he is currently leading a group lesson, and I would hate to disturb the progress they must be making. He is really an excellent teacher, in his own right. But, please, don’t let talk your ear off more,” he bows slightly, smiling now, “Thank you for stopping by, Mr…?”

“Genji, just Genji is fine,” he says as he takes Mondatta’s proffered hand and shakes it, “I hope the rest of your…meditation goes well.”

“Thank you for your kind thoughts,” Mondatta replies, moving to resume his position on the cushion as Genji opens the chime-lined door, “Do come back sometime, then I’ll truly introduce you to my brother properly.”

* * *

 

 The next morning, Tuesday, starts much like the one before it. Genji manages to get ready and feed his cat in a timely enough manner so he has time to swing by the 7-11 and grab a coffee. Ana chides him good-naturedly for his caffeine and sugar intake (“You’re far too young to be drinking that!” “Ma’am, I’m twenty-two and I’m a college student, what did you expect?” “Do you know how much sugar is in that?” “Not enough.”) before disappearing into her office to make some calls about incoming shipments. He’s left with the task of wiping down the counter and turning on all of the shops displays and lights, and he’s just about done when somebody knocks on the front door. Grumbling, Genji approaches the door with the full intent of cheerily informing whoever’s on the other end that they’re not open yet. He unlocks and opens the door, mouth open to say just that, when he looks up and locks eyes with possibly the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Said person is a few inches taller than him, with skin a few shades darker than his, and a clean-shaved head. His eyes are a bright blue, though that might just be the display lights’ effect, and he’s got more piercings than Genji, which is an unusual sight around the quieter side of the city. Genji’s eyes catch on the stranger’s Adam’s apple as it bobs when he swallows, and speaks, voice soft, “Um, hi?”

Genji startles like he’s been dreaming (which, in his opinion, he must be) and realizes he’s just been standing there, staring at this stranger. The circular markings on his forehead make him realize that this must be the brother he didn’t meet yesterday, and he clears his throat and puts on his best, most charming smile, “Hey, Zenyatta, right?”

“Yes, that’s me,” he’s rewarded with a small smile, “I suppose you’re the person Mondatta said he met yesterday afternoon, Genji, yes?”

Genji nods, still caught a little off guard by just how gorgeous he is, “Yeah, that’s me. He mentioned wanting to introduce us in person, but hey, here you are. What’s up?”

The resemblance between the brothers is striking when Zenyatta furrows his eyebrows, “Ah, I hate to bother you before you open, but,” he sighs and glances in the direction of the yoga studio, “Mondatta seems to have misplaced our broom, and I really do need to sweep up before we open, you see, we have a class this morning for a group of…very particular women, and I don’t feel like hearing someone complain about dust during opening stretches.”

It takes Genji a moment to reply; he’s still taking in Zenyatta’s appearance. He’s wearing a loose polka dot t-shirt and even looser pants, probably so he can move around easily, and he, too, has tattoos over his arms that seem like they trail over onto his chest. Genji quickly replies before he starts thinking too much about what they might look like elsewhere, “Oh, yeah, um. Give me a second.”

He darts around to the other side of the front counter and, after a small tangle with cleaning supplies, emerges with the broom, “Here you go. Uh. Don’t worry about returning it too soon,” he flashes what he hopes is another winning smile at Zenyatta, “I’ll be here until we close.”

“Ah, I’ll certainly try to return it before then,” Zenyatta replies, with a wider smile than before, “Thank you, and please thank Ms. Amari, too, on my behalf.”

“Of course, no problem. Tell Mondatta I said hello too,” he replies, walking with Zenyatta to the door, under the guise of locking it behind him, “Don’t be a stranger, now.”

“I’ll try not to be.” Zenyatta turns and gives him one more smile as Genji holds the door open for him before heading back to his studio, and Genji spends at least a minute watching him walk away before taking a deep breath and heading back into the store, locking the door behind himself.

Checking over the stock list once more, he feels a sinking sense that he didn’t make quite the impression he wanted, and the light over his head flickers, feebly. With a sigh, he shouts to the back of the store, “Hey, boss, do we have lightbulbs?”

There’s a muffled groan and Ana peeks out from her office, “No, actually, I had Fareeha put the last new one in yesterday. Could you ask someone else in the complex if they have any extras? I’ll give you ten extra minutes for lunch if you do.”

Genji examines the light above his head, and as it flickers back on, he visibly brightens, too, an idea hatching itself in his mind, “Sure, boss, I know just who to ask.”


	2. Cohesion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This took me awhile to get to because I was having trouble putting what I was thinking into words that made sense.  
> alternate title for this chapter: "oh how the turns have tabled"

The studio is notably livelier when Genji strolls in during his lunch break, people from seemingly all walks of life chatting in the lobby. He scans the room for any shaved heads and intricate tattoos and finds neither, so he shuffles along the wall to one of the draped doorways.

The next room is an even wider space, dim lighting provided by many candles lining the edge of the space. Woven tapestries hang from violet walls, and still more people linger in the space, some still stretching on their mats, though a good amount are gathered around who Genji is the teacher.

Zenyatta is clasping the hand of woman who is holding her rolled up mat under her arm, both of them smiling. The woman is saying something Genji can’t quite hear as he approaches, glancing around at the half dozen or so people still waiting to talk to their teacher.

“Of course, Marjorie. I’m glad to hear your recovery is coming along well. I hope your son gets over his cold soon.” Zenyatta says, releasing her hand and bowing his head slightly. Genji nudges his way through the people and clears his throat, catching Zenyatta’s eyes, and he feels his heart skip a beat when Zenyatta lights up.

“Genji! Oh, I’m sorry, everyone,” he bows his head again, sheepish, at the gathered students, “I believe my friend here has something to discuss with me, I will see you all next week, yes?” He grabs Genji’s forearm with strength that surprises him, physically pulling him from the room and into a side room that could aptly be described as an office. He nudges the door not quite closed with his bare foot and turns to Genji with a sigh, releasing his arm, “Sorry about that. They can get quite persistent if I stay around to answer questions for too long. Some of my students seem to think I’m some sort of wise man or an…oracle, or something.”

“You seem easy to talk to,” Genji replies, going for charm, “I’m not surprised by your...following.”

Zenyatta’s furrowed eyebrows return full force, “It’s not a following! It’s just. People who are eager for easy answers to complex problems.”

“And they come to you for the answers,” Genji reaches out to put his hand on Zenyatta’s shoulder, “It’s flattering, don’t you think? If not exhausting.”

“I suppose so. Now, you must’ve come over here for some reason other than to rescue me from overbearing students, yes?” he asks, smiling warmly down at Genji.

Having momentarily forgotten the reason he came, Genji just stares at Zenyatta for just a moment too long, and doesn’t snap back to reality until he clears his throat, “Uh. Right. Do you guys have any extra lightbulbs? We’ve got one out over the counter, it’s really annoying…”

Zenyatta laughs and leads him from the office and through the now-empty room, “Aw, here I was, hoping that you’d come to eat lunch with me. No matter,” he nudges open another side door as Genji stands there, trying to regain his composure and say that he’d _love_ to have lunch with him while Zenyatta rummages around and pulls out a lightbulb box. When he reemerges, Genji must still look preoccupied, because he blinks and hides a smile behind his free hand, “Oh, I’m sorry, I actually have something to do during my break, maybe another time? I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”

As he presses the box into Genji’s hands, Genji resolves to make sure that happens.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s Saturday before Genji knows it, and he finds himself meticulously checking the store for anything, _anything_ that they don’t have in stock. Anything to replace, anything that needs to be fixed, a reason for him to go over to Tekhartha Yoga and talk to Zenayatta again. He figures he has about half an hour until Zenyatta is finished borrowing the store’s dustpan (“Mondatta knocked over a candleholder while he was waving his arms about, talking about something or other. He always acts like he’s talking to a large crowd.”), the latest in the chain of borrowing they’ve both been participating in. In just a week, Genji has repaired or cleaned more things in the store than he remembers fixing up all last summer, and it hasn’t even been a week yet, all because he keeps blowing his chances to ask Zenyatta to hang out.

He’s not going to mess it up today, though. He’s been planning out exactly what he’s going to say. He’s THE Genji Shimada, campus playboy extraordinaire, biggest flirt of his graduating class. He can do this.

His faith in himself dries up as he realizes, sullenly, that he really can’t come up with anything to ask to borrow, the crucial point of his plan. Even Ana can’t think of anything that they need, though her knowing smile puts him a little more on edge.

Coming up to the door to the studio, he almost knocks, then shakes his head at himself before going in, almost running into Mondatta on the way out.

“Excuse me, Genji, I assume you’re looking for Zenyatta? He’s in his office,” Mondatta says, looking uncharacteristically in a rush, slipping by, his overly long sleeves flapping by his sides as he powerwalks towards the other end of the shopping center.

Rattled, he slips inside the empty studio, making his way to Zenyatta’s little office and rapping on the half-open door.

Zenyatta rolls his chair to the door, pulling it open and smiling _up_ at Genji for once, “Ah, I was expecting you, Genji,” he sets down his fork and stands up, and once again, Genji is struck by the fact that he’s…tall. And gorgeous. And a little intimidating to ask out.

When Genji doesn’t respond, still just standing there and smiling, Zenyatta gently pushes him through the doorway, leaving Genji’s shoulder feeling like it’s burning, “I believe I left your dustpan up front, I don’t want to take up your entire break.”

“It’s no problem, really. I’m more afraid of taking up _your_ break,” Genji insists, following him back through the building and towards the front, “Any other candleholders lost today? I want to make sure the funeral records are accurate.”

That earns him a laugh, one that leaves him reeling and out of breath, Zenyatta covering his mouth with slender fingers, bending over slightly before he sobers up and puts on a very serious face, “Only one, but we must make sure the proceedings go as smoothly as possible.”

Genji smothers a laugh, but can’t manage to hide his smile, “Understood. But, really, where did you put that dustpan?” He steps around the back counter, or tries to before Zenyatta suddenly shouts, “Wait!”

Genji stops mid-step, eyes flicking back to Zenyatta’s, then back to behind the counter, confused.

“Genji, let me explain—“ Zenyatta starts, but before he can finish, everything in the room rushes into focus, and Genji’s vision centers on the two dustpans sitting neatly under the counter’s inner edge.

“It’s not what it looks like! I um. Found our dustpan while I was cleaning up the candleholder! Yes, and I just put yours back here while I waited for you to come over, there was a class so I couldn’t come bring it to you, uh…” Zenyatta stumbles through an explanation, visibly flustered, “Oh, goodness, that sounds creepy, doesn’t it? I was just going to bring it to you during lunch, if you didn’t come over here, but you usually do…”

Genji just shakes his head, emboldened, and turns to face Zenyatta, setting the toy store’s dustpan on the counter, “Could I ask to borrow something else?”

“Um, sure,” he responds, “Anything, really.”

“A pen, then? Or a marker?”

Zenyatta shuffles over to the counter, himself, pulling a pen out from the cup next to the stack of papers Mondatta must have left in his rush, “May I ask why you need a pen? Are you going to write something about this fiasco?”

“Can I borrow your hand?” Genji requests, holding out his own, completely avoiding Zenyatta’s question.

With no little amount of trepidation, Zenyatta takes a step towards Genji and rests his hand, palm down, in Genji’s, and watches, confused, eyes wide and lips pursed as he writes something on his skin.

After a moment, Genji clicks his tongue, satisfied, and releases his hand without stepping back, turning Zenyatta’s hand over so he can read what he’s written, “Look, I can’t be mad because if you were doing this for the same reason I was, then we’re in the same boat. No harm done.”

Zenyatta slowly takes his hand back, eyeing Genji with still-evident confusion, eyes then flicking to the numbers Genji wrote on his hand, “Is this..a phone number?” He pauses, eyes narrowing and then going wide again as he looks back up at him, “ _Your_ phone number?”

Genji quickly loses his resolve, hands dropping now that they’re no longer holding Zenyatta’s, “Yeah, but you don’t have to…do anything with it. You can just, y’know. Wash it off whenever you get a chance, it’s no big—“

“Let me see your phone,” Zenyatta holds out his hand and holds Genji’s gaze, then he wiggles his fingers, “Please.”

Genji tries his best to hide the shake in his fingers as he unlocks his phone and deposits it in his open palm. Zenyatta taps through a few screens and hands Genji back his phone with a small smile and a “In case I lose the nerve to text you first.”

Genji studies his face, holding his phone so long that the screen goes dim, watching as Zenyatta’s cheeks go rosy under his gaze, “Genji, you’re staring, and it’s making me feel like I’m being too forward.”

“No!” he says, immediately, one hand shooting out to hold Zenyatta’s again, “No, I just. I’m not used to being flirted with. Usually I’m the one who does all that.”

Zenyatta quirks one perfect eyebrow at him and his smile widens just slightly, “Is that so? Then,” he raises their joined hands to his lips and kisses the back of Genji’s hand, bowing his head before he lets go, “Let me be the first to flirt just as hard.”

With that, Zenyatta simply walks back to his office, leaving Genji with his dim-screened new contact screen and his tingling hand.

Somehow, he makes it home in one piece, though every time his hand touches something, his whole body feels warm again. He lets himself into his apartment and is immediately greeted by his cat, who insistently rubs against his leg.

“You do this every time I’m gone for more than an hour, Daikon,” he murmurs, bending down to pet him so he’ll settle down, scratching under his chin, “Hungry?”

It’s only after he gets both his cat and himself fed that he even thinks to look at his phone. He’s about halfway through his cheap, guilty-pleasure yakisoba when his phone buzzes, and he nearly drops his food in his rush to look at the screen, thinking it’s Zenyatta.

[Incoming Call: Mama Shimada]

Swallowing, though his mouth is suddenly dry and empty, he answers, “Hello?”

“ _Genji? It took you a bit to answer, is everything alright? You weren’t meditating or anything, right?”_

“No, Mom, I was just eating. Got off of work a while ago.” He sets his food down, knowing that he probably won’t have much of an appetite after this conversation. Daikon jumps up onto the couch and curls up next to him.

 _“At that toy store, right?”_ There’s a pause, and Genji holds his tongue at his mother’s tone, “ _You know, you can always come—“_

“Come back?” his own voice goes blade-sharp for a moment and he sighs, shoulders slumping, “No, mom. No thanks, I’m doing fine.”

_“…If you’re sure. You know we miss you, your father and I. And your brother.”_

Genji holds his breath for a moment, feeling sick at the mention of his brother, and he curls up against the arm of his couch, “Of course, mom.”

 _“We could talk about it, you know you’re always welcome here,”_ he rubs his forehead and holds in another sigh, _“You always have a place with us.”_

“Mom, I gotta go,” he says, quickly, already pulling the phone away from his ear, “Bye.”

[Call Ended]

He sinks further into the couch and resolves to stay there for a few hours, or at least until his head stops spinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get in touch with me about the fic on tumblr at shimadagans.tumblr.com


	3. Appearance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alternate title: "who's that asshole?"

Genji is nervous. He’s actually full-on nervous for the first time in years. His hands feel a little sweaty, and his stomach is full of grasshoppers at the prospect of making a fool of himself in front of the gorgeous individual in a ridiculously large sun hat across the wire table from him.

Zenyatta, wearing said sun hat and a plaid, short-sleeved collared shirt that he looks illegally good in, is smiling at Genji in a coy sort of way that he’s come to associate with the sweaty hands and the grasshoppers. Genji gets the stupid urge to thank him for coming, but they’re at this cutesy ice cream place on the edge of town specifically because they both agreed to meet here, over text, as a date.

They’re on a date, and Genji feels like he could _fly._

“Something on your mind?” Zenyatta asks, easy as ever, the corners of his mouth turned upwards, “Generally, people do talk while they’re on dates.”

“Oh, uh, sorry,” he replies, looking away and then back, tugging on the collar of his own shirt, one that he picked after trying on several, trying his best to make himself look half as good as his date does on any given day and _shit_ did he say that out loud?

When he glances back up after frantically willing himself to _please_ not say anything else stupid, Zenyatta is covering his mouth with one hand, spoon held aloft in the other, looking equal parts pleased and surprised.

It gets easier after that, after convincing himself that Zen (the nickname Genji slides into for him with no complaints from the party in question) isn’t out with him like this because he wants…something from him. They just…talk, and laugh, and share some ice cream, innocent as you please. It’s refreshing, really, and Genji thinks he might enjoy this more than a frat party after all. By the time he even thinks to check the time on his phone, they’re talking about movies; it’s been two and a half hours and the daylight is starting to thicken into gold.

“My favorite movie is,” Zenyatta starts, and he bites his lip before continuing, “Please don’t laugh, it’s _Enter the Dragon._ I know,” he waves a hand at Genji, who is ready to interject, “Wait, I know it’s old and cheesy, but it just has a special place in my heart.”

“It’s one of my favorites, too” he replies, and he’s instantly gifted with an excited smile from the other, prompting him to add on, “I don’t know if you have other plans today but, uh. We could go back to my place? To watch it, I mean. I have it on DVD.”

“My, how scandalous,” Zen intones, unruffled and already standing up, “And how exciting, do I get to meet any roommates? Or family?”

Genji finds himself standing rather hurriedly as well, stuffing his hands into his pockets and leading the way over to his car. “Um. Just my cat, if he counts.”

Zenyatta pauses, seems to sense Genji’s discomfort about a certain topic, and immediately continues on, growing excitement in his voice, “A cat, you say? I think I may find myself in your company far more often from now on.”

* * *

 

To his credit, Zenyatta seems to be very good at getting Daikon to like him.

“He’s not usually like this,” Genji murmurs, the opening sequence of _Enter the Dragon_ playing on the screen in front of them, lighting their faces with blue glow.

“Like what? Perfect?” Zenyatta practically coos at the cat in his lap, petting his ears with utmost care, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me how sweet he is! You will have to send me pictures every morning now.”

“He usually either hisses at or hides from everyone that isn’t me, consider yourself special,” he replies, willing himself not to take a picture of Zen cuddling his cat for his own collection, “I mean. I think you’re plenty likeable...”

Zen stops petting Daikon for just a second to cover his mouth, nearly giggling as Bruce Lee comes into the shot for the first time, “Oh, shush, the movie’s starting, no more of that.”

Genji tries to pretend that him shifting closer to his date during the movie is completely organic, natural, their hands touch at some point and Zen just turns his palm over so Genji can hold it properly, shooting him a knowing look. He seems to know every line and the way he squeezes Genji’s hand during the stealth scenes is nothing short of adorable. Daikon falls right asleep in Zen’s lap, sweet as he pleases, curled up.

Genji finds himself watching more of Zen than the movie and it’s over before he knows it, pretending to have been just as engrossed as Zenyatta stretches his arms above his head, their hands still joined.

“Ah, it never gets old, that last scene, with the mirrors,” Zen flaps his free hand at the screen, now playing the ending credits, “I always wanted to see my name in the end credits of a film like this but…” he shakes his head and smiles softly, “It just never happened, no matter. Do you have the time, Genji?”

Passing over the way Zen saying his name, even casually, makes him feel warm, he takes his phone out to check, “It’s… around 8, shit, it got late so quick.”

“Oh, goodness,” Zenyatta gently disturbs Daikon, already starting to get up, “I didn’t realize, oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stay so long, I’m sure you have things to do tonight—”

“No I,” Genji clears his throat, standing too, still holding his hand, “I was only planning on being with you tonight.”

Zenyatta’s face softens at that, and they spend maybe a moment too long just standing there, looking at one another before Zen glances at his own phone, “I really should be going, though,” he looks back at Genji, who definitely doesn’t miss the way his eyes sweep over Genji’s face, “Wouldn’t want to keep my brother waiting, he’ll show up here ready to fight you for kidnapping me.”

“Let me walk you out then,” Genji allows himself a grin, “Don’t want your brother getting the wrong impression.

They make it to the door and Genji opens it before Zenyatta squeezes his hand again, “Genji,” and he slows to a stop, back to the door, facing Zen as he peeks down at him, biting his lower lip, “You said earlier that you wished to do this first date thing right, aren’t you forgetting something?”

He’s looking at Genji, smiling expectantly, and it spurs Genji to action. He leans in, slow and easy, eyes slipping closed, curious as to what Zen’s lips feel like and—

Somebody clears their throat behind him, outside the door. Somehow, even just that noise sounds like an admonishment.

 

“So much for observational training passed down for generations. What a waste.”

Genji turns around, leveling his gaze on a man with long hair, pulled back in a neat tail, not a hair out of place, clothing neatly pressed.

Zenyatta peeks over Genji’s shoulder, voice smooth though he’s squeezing Genji’s hand, “Greetings, who might you be?”

The man simply snorts in response, “It is not surprising that you do not tell your _flings_ ,” he looks pointedly at Zenyatta, “About your family.”

“Zen, this is my brother,” he finally manages, shoulders taut, “Hanzo, this is Zenyatta, not a fling. Why are you here.” He barely even asks, voice flat.

“To say that you are returning home as soon as possible,” Hanzo says, as if it is the most obvious fact in existence, “In your selfishness, you are making mother and father undergo a great deal of stress, and as an adult, you really should know better by now—”

“You know damn well that I’m not coming ‘home’,” Genji practically spits the word, taking a step out the door, pointing at the dumb fancy car Hanzo’s parked in the lot in front of his place, “And you, of all people, know damn well why, too. Leave, Hanzo,” he turns away, under the pretense of facing Zen again, though his hands are visibly shaking, “Don’t come back again.”

Hanzo scoffs once more before he turns smartly on his heel and calls over his shoulder, “It’s on your shoulders, then.”

Genji waits until he hears the car start, waits until he hears the telltale gravel crunching under the tires until he looks up at Zen, met with only concern, “Are you alright, Genji? Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“Not…right now,” he concedes, realizing, again, that he hasn’t let go of Zen’s hand, “Maybe, maybe later?”

Zen nods, bless him, and gives his hand one more squeeze before letting go. Immediately, though, he stoops slightly, cups Genji’s face with one set of long fingers, and gives his cheek a small, sweet kiss, “Please, text me later?” he murmurs, only pulling away when he gets a nod. He gives Genji one last sweet smile before pulling out his phone to call his brother.

Later, Genji lays spread eagle on his bed, arm over his eyes, willing away the thought of his parents withering away in front of him, of the family elders’ scowls the last time he saw them, of a younger Hanzo’s scream. Later still, he finds restless sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you can guess what kind of cat Daikon is, you win a slice of shortcake


	4. Serious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji and Zenyatta have a talk. And do some yoga. It works. It's a lot of dialogue.  
> [Wonderful art by tumblr user gayintotheiris here for chapter 3](https://gayintotheiris.tumblr.com/post/167608592165/i-made-some-drawings-for-my-bfs-wonderful-fic)

               It isn’t until days later that Genji gets the nerve worked up to actually talk to Zenyatta about what happened, about why he’s lived on his own for a while now. Zen, to his credit, doesn’t bring it up, and they flirt and eat lunch together as usual. It isn’t until Monday after Genji gets off of his morning shift that he comes in to the yoga studio that he finally feels ready to talk about it, like an itch down his spine where he can’t reach.

               They sit together in Zen’s little office, just eating lunch, talking of small things, and the feeling builds up, the itch now no longer ignorable. Genji takes a deep breath and sighs it out before starting, “Zen, I think you deserve an explanation.”

“About what? The quality of your veggies today? Oh,” Zen’s expression softens, and his smile slips just the slightest bit, “You mean about the other day?”

“Yes,” he replies, trying to sound more confident than he feels, “It’s just. It’s a lot, so if you decide you don’t want to hear anymore or,” he waves a hand, almost knocking over his tubberware full of rice, “Whatever, you can say so, and I’ll stop.”

Zen nods and sets his own lunch down, lacing his fingers together and sitting up in his chair, the very picture of a good listener, and Genji feels his fondness for him get just a bit stronger. He takes another deep breath and starts.

“When I was younger, my family and I lived in Japan. Things were good, we were well-off and generally we seemed happy.” Zenyatta nods again, and Genji goes on, or at least tries to, “Then there was some...er, trouble, with other parts of the family and some…stuff happened and. Ugh,” he stops, rubs his forehead with one hand, “See, I want to say everything but. I don’t know how much you want to hear. I don’t want to…scare you off or something.”

Even though he feels foolish for saying it, Zenyatta’s expression tells him he’s safe, “Oh, Genji,” he sighs, leans forward, and reaches for one of Genji’s hands, clasping it between both sets of his ringed fingers when it’s offered, “I know we aren’t anything serious right now but, if I may be honest and perhaps a bit bold, I think I’d like to be.” He levels Genji with a look that’s equal parts serious and fond, “So, I don’t think you’ll ‘scare me off’ with anything you might say, unless you’re going to tell me you’re actually a…dragon, or something. _That_ I might be a bit alarmed about.”

That at least gets Genji to loosen up a little, and as some of the tension leave his shoulders, he allows himself a laugh, “Okay, okay, that would be pretty weird,” he pauses and then adds on, quickly, “I think I’d like to be serious with you, too but I’m not sure where to really start with…this subject.”

Zenyatta studies him for a second before he stands and gently tugs him to his feet, “I have an idea. Maybe it’s a bit unorthodox, but it’s worked for me before.”

* * *

 

Zen leads him to one of the big open classrooms and pulls out two mats before Genji gets the sense to ask him what he’s planning.

“We’re going to go through some basic stretches,” he says, positioning the mats next to each other just so, “I often find that when my mouth and my brain aren’t quite connecting, it’s easier to think and speak if the rest of my body has something else to focus on. Now, sit.” He points at one of the mats and situates himself on the other, looking at Genji expectantly.

When he sits, feeling a bit out of his comfort zone, Zenyatta asks him, “Do you have any previous history of serious injury, and have you done any sort of competitive sport before?”

“No, not really,” Genji says to the first question, and after a moment of hesitation, “Yes, I did some martial arts for a while.”

“Splendid, just follow me through these, try to copy what I’m doing with your body, and we’ll just talk. Does that sound good to you?” Zen asks, fingers steepled.

“Sure, but,” and he cuts himself off, “Sure, let’s give it a try.”

“Alright,” and Zenyatta crosses his legs with practiced ease, resting his hands palm down on his knees, “You were saying that you used to live in Japan, yes?”

Genji copies him, though he gets the feeling Zen’s going easy on him, “Yes, though I was still young when we left. Hanzo remembers it better, I’m sure.”

“That’s your brother, yes?” Zen prompts, tucking his claves underneath himself, “The one I had the pleasure of meeting?”

“Yes, that’s him,” Genji moves slower, gives himself a chance to get used to this, “He’s no pleasure though, I assure you. All work and no play.”

“An utterly terrible way to live,” Zen remarks, leaning forward slowly, putting his palms on the mat and putting his weight on those and his knees, “What led you over to this country, then?”

“Honestly…” Genji collects himself in the time it takes to get into this pose, feeling distinctly unathletic next to Zen, “Well. My father used to be the head of the whole family business but…that business was built almost completely on crime, and,” he breathes slowly, steels himself, “Most of it was not petty crime. I did not understand it all back then, but it all came to a head when I was kidnapped by a rival.”

Zen nearly breaks form at that, whipping his head up, “You were kidnapped? Were you harmed?”

“No, no,” Genji shakes his head, then remembers he’s supposed to be keeping a form, “The point of my kidnapping was merely the threat of violence for ransom.”

“Still a traumatic experience though, I’m sure, and at a young age…” Zenyatta arches his back and keeps his head up now, “Did this lead to your family leaving Japan?”

“Yes,” Genji follows, winces as he feels long-underused joints move, “My father took what he could and he, my mother, my brother, and I came here,” he pauses, “My father was always ambitious, though. Founded a restaurant when he could, was head chef for a while, and eventually one restaurant became two, three, more, and a head chef became a CEO.”

Zenyatta nods, then shifts, bending nearly at the waist into a position Genji actually recognizes as Downward Dog, “Good on him, for getting you all to safety. What of your mother?”

“She’s a designer,” he copies him smoothly this time, having done at least this pose before, “Her success mattered little on whether or not the rest of the family supported her.”

The yoga instructor hums at that, simply stays in this position, “Where did your relationship go awry, then? For all appearances, you appear to care for them deeply.”

Genji sighs at that, feels the tension build up again, “Well when I…came out,” he glances sideways at Zen, gauging his reaction, “They were really supportive at first. Got me on hormones, got a new wardrobe, the whole nine yards. We even moved so that I could go to a new school under a new name. Even Hanzo seemed unbothered by it.” He feels about three sizes too big for his skin at this point, but he presses onwards, “The transition from living in Japan to living here in the U.S. was fine, Hanzo and I were already learning English back in Japan so living here just made that go faster but…as willing to leave Japan as my parents were, they still brought some of their values here.”

Zenyatta doesn’t verbally prompt him this time, just goes back into his resting, cross-legged pose from before, head tilted to the side.

“One day when I was still in high school, Mom told me some old friends were coming over, and to be on my best behavior. She had me get all dressed up, tie and all. When the ‘friends’ got here, it was another part of the big family that has escaped over here, a woman, her husband, and their daughter.” He closes his eyes and can still see them, dressed neatly, friendly but on edge, “Now, Keiko was a nice enough girl but,” he swallows, clears his throat, “I’m not exactly into girls, and I’m definitely not into arranged marriages, or anything that looks or sounds like one.”

“Ah,” Zenyatta’s eyes are sad now, almost, “What was the reason behind this?”

“Keiko’s family had made their new business in casinos,” Genji squeezes his knees and looks down, “My father saw it as a way to secure a business partnership, and since I was more…personable than Hanzo, and not as invested in the family business, I was the better ‘suitor’.”

“They told me to play nice with Keiko, to butter her up, to make her interested in me, and every time we were together she seemed expectant, waiting for something.” He takes another steadying breath and Zenyatta reaches for his hand again, “While Hanzo buried himself in school and the business, learning everything he could for some fucked-up sense of duty, I started working everywhere else I could, secretly, under the guise of always partying, so I could get out of my family’s house. So I could independent.”

“Oh, Genji,” Zen reaches for his other hand too, and squeezes, “That’s why you’re working at the toy store? And you’re paying for school on your own?”

He just nods, feeling winded, suddenly, but lighter, almost, “Yes, and I still have no clue what I’m doing besides being…out here, on my own.”

“That’s just fine,” Zenyatta offers, gesturing to the studio around them, “Mondatta and I came over here from Nepal with only a vague idea of what we wanted to do, it was good fortune and a lot of hard work that got us to this point. I have a feeling that’s what’s in your future, as well, Genji.”

“You’re sweet,” Genji counters, giving Zen a smile, “I’m still figuring it out but. I’m glad I left, I’m glad I’m here now.” _With you_ , he almost adds.

They eventually get off the floor, after Zen leads him through a few cool down breathing exercises (“Better safe than sorry, Genji!”), and they finish their lunch in Zen’s office, never quite far apart enough not to touch. Genji’s not sure what exactly has changed but he feels safer, somehow. When he professes this Zenyatta, he nods sagely and says “Yoga has that effect on people,” then bursts into laughter.

“I’m glad you feel that way, really, Genji,” he says, sobering up a bit, “I want you to know, also, that everything you’ve told me will stay with me. I’m not sure how long you’ve been keeping all that to yourself but please know, I’m here for you, you can talk to me about this, about anything.”

“You can do the same, y’know,” he finds himself saying, emboldened, “Like…if something is bothering you, you can talk to me, too.” He smiles a little wider then nudges Zenyatta as they walk together to the front of the studio, “Were you being serious about wanting to be serious, Zen?”

Zenyatta flushes again, covering his dark cheeks with one hand and waving the other at Genji, “Of course I was, I wouldn’t just say something like that for no reason!”

Genji reaches for his wrists gently and leans upwards, “Then can I kiss you?”

“You better, after what happened the other night.” Zen counters, good-naturedly.

Genji closes the gap, kissing him chastely, sweetly, and only for a second before pulling away and rocking back on his heels, “Does that make up for it, Mr. Serious?”

Zenyatta puts a finger to his chin and taps it, looking thoughtful and pleased, “For now, yes. You may go.”

He gives Zenyatta’s hand one last squeeze before he leaves, feeling lighter than he has in ages.


End file.
